


A Winter in Spring

by AsceOfSpades



Category: Original Work
Genre: Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 15:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsceOfSpades/pseuds/AsceOfSpades
Summary: A collection of works inspired by a great many things





	A Winter in Spring

Though the flower blooms in peace,

those around it are left to see

the horror that is the world.

The flower, facing the sun,

sees not a struggle, or a war.

The flower, in fact, is the pale blossom of innocence.

The flower, our hope, but if you’ll only look around,

you see no such flower here.

* * *

A crack forms under pressure,

the most immense of pressure.

But we fault our children

irregardless

if they dare let their cracks show.

One crack splits into many,

and soon all hidden pains are bared,

and we realize that for the masses,

this pain is all they know.

Our children, they don’t talk to us;

they bite and claw and whine.

But sometimes through an ugly crack you’ll see a flower grow.

* * *

**He** comes back, of course **he** does, not the same

A new scar, two in fact, who knows what from

Won’t say where **he** was, or what was to blame

You only wish you knew what was to come

When you find  him  again,  he  is broken

Filled to the brim with secrets  he  can’t share

You call  his  name;  he  starts as if woken   
When it spills, there’s an ache you can’t repair

_He_ is only twenty, tasked with so much

Some days you wonder when _he_ will return

Ten years later, you are afraid to touch

Gone too soon again, you’re destined to yearn

Of ~~him~~ , you can no longer seem to speak

But you know what ~~he~~ lost won’t make ~~him~~ weak

 

```````````````````````````````````````````

Ignis burns, destroys

In gentle moments, alone,

it’s light in the dark

```````````````````````````````````````````

Aqua heals the pained

But that gentle, soothing cold,

floods in a heartbeat

``````````````````````````````````````````

Terra grounds us here

Angry rumbles in the dark,

or unsteady path

``````````````````````````````````````````

Aer lifts our troubles

Soft soothing breeze comforts us,

or tears lives to shreds

```````````````````````````````````````````

 

The moon is a beauty,

this is for certain.

But to see the moon unending,

unyielding in it’s cold grace

and power,

is to see Selene in all her god-given glory.

* * *

 

A child may believe

mountains move,

but fancy a respecting adult do the same?

Nay,

in our lifetime,

only children believe a mountain

can be moved,

and only adults have the nerve

to say ‘no’.

* * *

 

To live alone, if only for a moment.

To hear to waves on the shore

wash gently against wood poles,

to hear rain plonk on the roof,

in your boat,

on the ocean.

The wind gently swishes

through trees and roof alike.

Time is frozen, yet it carries onwards.

* * *

**Yes** , you’ve made your peace here with us, but

**It** doesn’t matter much, it only

**Means** you were unwilling to die alone, afraid.

**I’m** sorry to say that you’ll never be

**Free.**

* * *

_I_ must grab your hand for if I do not I

_Am_ to fall, I am to fall and I am

_Reaching_ but your hand slips away, do you slip it away?

_But_ your hand I do grasp, tightly, too tightly, and

_I_ am dropped, by you, whom I trusted. I

_Fall._

* * *

She is fuming, in the moment,

Has been for hours, but she wishes she could lock it away as

Nothing; for if she is

To do something, who’s to say she will not

Fear?

* * *

~~Dreamed~~ late into the morning, dreamed

~~That~~ life was changed, and changed by

~~God~~ as it were, dreamed that the world

~~Would~~ heal its own wounds, dreamed the fighting would

~~Be~~ over, dreamed people would finally be

~~Forgiving.~~

* * *

 

You wonder what he’s like without status

If he was born to a common life

If he were not the Chosen King

If…

If only he was normal

If only he was common

If only he were still here

If, if, if

* * *

You wonder what he’s like without strength

With a life dedicated to himself

A life where he protects his sister

Instead he is the Shield of the King

Responsibility stacked on his shoulders

You wonder if he would still laugh as loud

Love as deep

You wonder if he would be _him_

* * *

You wonder what he’s like without sarcasm

With no snarky comebacks

No sardonic remarks

Ah, as if that is all he is

Sarcasm, snark, sardonic spite

As if that was what he is allowed to be

Instead, he is the Royal Advisor

And his life is not his own

* * *

You wonder what he’s like without sweetness

Without a goofy grin spread across his face

A bright flash in the middle of battle

Carefree laugh ringing through the air

But he was without sweetness, once

You don’t know of the time, but you have heard

What he was

And who he’s become

* * *

Blood seeps through the stems,

rotting life from within,

corrupting that which was good

and pure.

Blood darkens

and destroys

that which was light and wholesome,

Anat welcomes it.

Bellona laughs at blood,

Enyo dances in it,

Pakhet dances in it.

The stories tell of women

who conquered death

and conquered war,

and there are more than one can conceive

because women

are power.

* * *

Love? you may ask

What is love?

You do not get an answer,

for how to describe love?

Love is a force of nature, it is each element and not one all at the same time

Love is fire, burning bright

It is water, flooding each of your senses

It is earth, it is grounding you to this world, to reality

It is air, fickle and delicate but strong and impassioned

What is love?

Well, to start, love is what I feel for you

 

****************************************************************

****************************************************************

 

Sappy feelings fade away and leave only pain

For what is hate?

What is this malice that builds deep in my chest

This pain that lumps in my throat, makes it hard to breathe?

Hate, too, is the elements inside you

Like molten fire it boils your skin and melts your heart

Like ice water it clears your conscience and freezes your soul

Like an earthquake, unsettling, ever-changing, ruining

Like a hurricane, ripping apart even the fabric of reality

What is hate?

Hate, my dear, is what you have done to me

* * *

 

You think, as always, you are burning alive

Of course, you are fine, but you are not

You are ripped open from the inside

Delicate pieces of you laid to rest

Exposed for the cruel, unforgiving world to see

You know not to cover yourself

Pointless, they’ll cry

As glinting metal reflects abstract horror you can only wonder

How it must feel to die

* * *

They must have drowned you

Because for once, your thoughts are all the noise you hear

You must be dying, for how else would you know that solace is near?

How could you feel the sun once again warm your body?

You forget killing is a mercy they are not capable of

You are pulled back from the void, and despite the acceptance of death

Your breaths are deep but shallow

You barely fill your lungs before you are given back to the silence

* * *

The ground beneath is what you first feel

But it is different, shifting

Sand, you think, this is sand

No

It is the first clue that something is wrong

For you open your eyes, but…

But…

Nothing

What have they done, you wonder

What, indeed

* * *

 

When they finally decide you are useless

They suffocate you

They don’t smother, or coddle

They downright throttle your throat, back and forth and back and forth

You’re lost in the rhythm of it

You almost forget to feel pain

But there it is, at the corners of your not-vision

You decide you are done

(Yes, you decide, not the hands at your throat at all)

You are just … so tired


End file.
